After the Storm
by rachelreverie
Summary: A few months after season three ended. Veronica will find herself in the midst of another murder with familiar faces and must do all she can to get to the truth. LoVe eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Pretty please excuse the Australian spelling. Picks up a couple of months after 3.20 _The Bitch is Back_. This is a short chapter just to start off. The rest will be longer in comparison. Please read and review.**

"Veronica?" Wallace waves his hand in front of my glazed over eyes a few times before snapping his fingers.

"I'm sorry, what?" I blink a few times in surprise, sitting bolt upright. The cafeteria is crowded and boisterous, but it can't keep me awake for more than ten minutes.

"Did someone miss their afternoon nap?" Piz teases, lacing his fingers through my own.

"It's this case I've been working on. It's been messing with my sleeping patterns." I lie. There is no case. But I can't admit to myself or anyone else the real reasoning behind my tiredness. There is no way.

I pull my hand away to eat my fries, picking at them one by one. Piz looks away, a slightly disappointed look on his face. I pretend not to notice.

"Has anyone seen Mac lately? She hasn't been around much. " Piz asks, breaking the silence.

"Did I just catch you thinking about another girl? Dear Sir, I do declare I'm shocked!" I gasp in feigned alarm, a southern accent coming out strongly. He looks at me worriedly, shaking his head in confusion.

"Kidding," I reassure him. I shake my own head, stuffing more fries in my mouth. I look away from them, letting my eyes wander across the room. The next thing I realise is Piz shaking me lightly, waking me up. My face is compressed against the table and my arm outstretched towards where Wallace had been sitting. I sit back up, confused. The cafeteria has emptied greatly with only a couple of tables still occupied. Wallace is gone and Piz is standing behind my chair.

"Are you okay?" He asks anxiously.

"How long was I out?" I ask, my voice strangely husky from sleep.

"About fifteen minutes. We just let you rest. You look like you needed the break." He explains earnestly.

I nod absently; barely noticing as we leave, our hands laced together.

"What's on your mind?" Piz asks; a slightly worried look on his face. It seems to have permanently fixated itself there, leaving him anxious all the time. It's like he doesn't really want the answer to the question, like he's scared somehow.

"Nothing." I respond robotically. I lean over and peck him on the lips. "I'm happy." His dorm room has barely changed over entire time he's been here, even with the addition of a few things; it's still almost identical to how to was when he and Wallace moved in. I'd become especially accustomed to it since my intense drowsiness had taken over my life; I'd come to sleep between classes, or rest my eyes before going home. I roll over in bed, rubbing my eyes. Flashes of bright lights and vivid memories flicker in my mind, reminding me of the dreams that have been haunting my sleep.

"I love you, Veronica." He murmurs into my ear. I smile at him, surprised to find him grimacing. "But you don't love me."

I stop smiling.

His features grow more and more crestfallen as I make no argument. He stops for a moment, temporary awkwardness taking over the situation. "It's still him, isn't it?" He doesn't even mention a name. I look away, anger beginning to rise. "I thought you'd moved on. But I don't think you have."

"I'm completely over him. I promise you." It doesn't feel like a lie and I thought it to not be a lie, and yet for some reason I know it isn't the truth.

"You talk in your sleep. Did you know that?" He asks. My eyebrows furrow in confusion; that is ridiculous. I know for a fact that I keep my thoughts to myself when I'm asleep. "These past few days, you've been so tired. I can see it in your eyes. You've been mumbling clearer and clearer every day."

I try to look at him, but I can't help but avoid his eyes. "You said 'I love you', just now." He smiles a little, seemingly humoured by the situation.

"So?" I whisper.

"You said 'I love you. I love you, _Logan_'. Clear as day." He looks so heartbroken that it makes me want to cry. Slowly, I reach my arm out to him but he leans away. I can't say anything. Nothing. Any feelings that I had for Logan were buried deep down and ignored. I can't say that they don't exist anymore, but I'd forgotten about them to the best of my ability.

"I was asleep. I'm sorry, but—"

"Veronica,"

"Piz, I can't help what—"

"Veronica." He interrupts more loudly. "What's going on with us?"

"I will not go back to him. Ever." I promise, ignoring his question. My eyes are welling with tears, exhaustion, possible realisation and anxiety becoming too much.

"Pretend there is no one else. What are we doing?" He asks firmly, no hint of awkwardness or lack of control. But I have no answer. I don't really know. "I really like you Veronica. I love you, you know that. But is this working?"

I avert my eyes to gather my thoughts. "Why do you love me, Piz?" I ask.

"Because you're funny, and smart, and beautiful. Because you're you." He says slowly, carefully enunciation each syllable.

"Because I really like you, and I want to know if you love me enough to try?" His eyes finally meet mine and I'm left with a lump in my throat. After a few seconds he nods, reluctant adoration clearly showing. "Thank you," I murmur, kissing him deeply.

Logan watches them from across the cafeteria the following day. Piz and Veronica act closer than ever, and yet she looks detached. Like she has been changed overnight. Dick was talking to some blonde sorority girl, beside him, but Logan ignored the two of them to stare. It had been a while since he had consciously paid Veronica much attention. The public rejection of Veronica being with Piz had hurt. Being dumped by Parker had not. But that was in the past. He was over it.

He could see them holding hands under the table. He shouldn't care. He looked away quickly, focusing his attention instead on the floor beneath his feet.

"Dude, Pi Sig party tonight. You in?" Dick asked loudly. The blonde girl had walked away leaving Dick with Logan.

"Yeah man, what time?" Logan replied, glad for the distraction.

"Eight. And you better be there. There are some people I want you to meet." Dick insinuated. "And by people, I mean chicks. And I mean seriously hot. Like, asses so tight you could blow a quarter off them." He smiles at the thought.

"It's _bounce_ a quarter." Logan laughed, smiling at his friend's ignorance.

"Whatever. Just be there."

The party was going off. By the time Logan arrived it was nearly one, but by this time girls were walking around drunkenly if they weren't already dancing or with someone. Despite the amount of people spilling out of doors and rooms, finding Dick was very easy.

"That's my girlfriend!" An angry voice was yelling. Logan arrived just in time to find a huge blonde guy throw a punch into Dick's face. Dick fell to the ground, blood spurting from his nose. Getting himself back up, the other guy punched him in the stomach, sending him down to his knees. Logan ran up behind him, trying to pull Dick away. The frat guy pushed Logan back, reaching for another swing at Dick.

Logan ran towards him, tackling him to the ground before laying into him, punch by punch. Quickly more and more people were getting involved, joining the fight until it became a complete brawl. Logan took the big guy easily, until he had mustered the strength to get up. The blonde guy punched Logan back with much more force.

Dick pulled Logan away, leaving the fighting masses behind them.

"You alright, man?" Logan asked Dick who was clutching a bleeding lip and nose. He nodded, making his way toward the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later with a cleaner face and a redhead clutching his waist. He grinned at Logan as he walked her upstairs.

Logan was by himself again. But not for long. Suddenly there were officers everywhere. Deputies swarmed the party, led by the sheriff brandishing a megaphone. "This is the Sheriff's department, remain where you are." His voice filled the house. People were running everywhere.

"Did you hear about the on campus dealers?" Piz asks, sipping his soda, after I take a seat in his dorm room.

I look at him quizzically. "The sheriff arrested them last night, or this morning I guess. There was a huge commotion at the Pi Sig house. Lots of people got arrested for possession and dealing.

"Pi Sig? What is with those boys? Must be something in the water," I remark as my phone begins vibrating in my pocket. _One New Message_. I read it through quickly, then again more slowly; carefully. My face remains neutral. "I just realised. I need to go do something. It's urgent." I say hurriedly, standing up. I peck Piz on the cheek before rushing to my car.

The Sheriff's department is relatively crowded, news about the drug seize seems to have spread rapidly. I march to Sacks' desk determinedly. "I need to see my father immediately."

**AN (2): My first fanfic, I need constructive criticism badly. Please review. It would be greatly appreciated. **


	2. Chapter 2

Keith looks exhausted. Almost as tired as I feel. He sits against the cold wall, his head in his hands. "Dad?" I call, rushing forward towards his cell. He looks up at me, his eyes alert and wearisome. "What happened? Cliff just said—"

"Veronica." He cuts me off, walking to me. "I need you to go home and get something. Then you need to bring it back and hand it over to Vinnie. It's very important." He begins pacing, anxiety pouring from him, ageing his face.

"Anything." I gasp without hesitation. He nods, like what he expected.

"I need you to get the file on your mother. I need you to help him find her."

I don't answer. I just stand there dumbfounded. I can't comprehend why he wants me to do this. "Help _Vinnie Van Lowe_ find my _mother_?" I whisper, sounding each vowel in confusion. I look away from him, glancing anywhere but at his face. I'm not sure if he understands how hard this is for me. Maybe too hard. "Why?"

"Just trust me." He utters, his face contorting in a look of agitation and worry.

"Will it get you out of here?"

"It might." He can see that I'm not entirely convinced. "Veronica." He eyes me carefully, as if telling me that I should do this. I narrow my eyes, staring at him hard. Grudgingly I agree. I pull out my phone to call Wallace.

"Hey, I'm not going to be able to come over, I have to do something for my dad. I'll talk to you later." I leave the message on his voicemail as I make my way towards my Saturn. As I take the wheel a wave of weariness overcomes me. I struggle to keep my eyes open. I shake it off and drive home to our apartment, passing the extravagant mansions of Neptune along the way. The safe's combination is fresh in my mind and finding the file is surprisingly easy. The manila folder marked _Lianne_ is thicker than I remember and I realise that dad has been adding to it. I'm curious as to why his interest would have picked up when a photo falls out of the side. It's a picture taken from when I was only little, maybe four years old. Mum and I are holding hands happily, dancing in our old living room. I stare at the image, before placing it in my pocket. It fills me with mixed emotions.

I call Cliff, wondering why dad needs this for his release. More importantly though, why he is in there in the first place? "Hey Cliff, it's Veronica."

"Well, hi there. What can I do you for?"

"Why is dad in a cell?" I ask, not wasting any time.

"As it so happens, he specifically told me not to tell you," Cliff replies. In the background I can hear people arguing. I figure he's working and his client isn't complying.

"Please Cliff; I'll help you with a case." I plead.

"Fine. But I get to choose which one." He concurs. "And that means with _no exceptions_." I realise I'm holding my breath. "He's being held for accessory. For Murder."

If it wasn't so serious, I'd laugh at the absurdity of the situation. My father a murderer? Then I'm seven feet tall. But then it dawns on me. Why is he being charged at all, and what does my mother have to do with it?

"Thanks Cliff. Just call me when you need my help." I hang up and make my way to the car. I'm driving for perhaps five minutes; the documents on my mother placed beside me on the opposite seat, when I'm overcome by drowsiness. My vision becomes blurry and I lose concentration on the road. I pull over, ignoring the beeping vehicles behind me. The flashy Mercedes and Porsches overtake me with ease, their young, annoyed drivers flipping me off as they drive past. I get out of the car, walking with difficulty to the passenger side. I lean on the door to maintain balance, not knowing what's going on. I know the feel of GHB. This is definitely not it. It feels like a sudden wearing down process; one that makes neither sense nor comfort. I open the door to grab the folder, holding it tightly in my hand. I bend down against the soft, black seats, leaning on my palms for support. I close my eyes in perplexity before losing sense of what is what. It all fades away as I black out.

_Lily is standing a few feet away, smirking mischievously. I call out to her but she can't seem to hear me. In the distance I can see Aaron Echolls watching her. I run at him, wanting him to disappear. But just as I'm close enough to reach him, the scene changes. I'm standing on a bridge and Logan's bright yellow car beside me, the driver's door wide open. I step towards the edge of the bridge, immediately predicting the worst. I don't see Logan anywhere. The water below is a dark mass that crashes and hurtles. I step back, my breath catching._

"_Veronica?" His voice murmurs from behind me. I turn to find him a bloody mess on the side of the road. He reaches out to me, revealing a trail of dirt and blood down his forearm. Tears well in my eyes as I stride closer to him. As I kneel down beside him I know there are only seconds left. I place my hand to his face, trying to stop my jaw from quivering. He doesn't look angry or sad for his death. Nor does he seem happy with me there. He frowns when I lean over him, his eyes narrowing noticeably. "You said it was over." He whispers. Although almost inaudible, the blame and disappointment and guilt are obvious. I mumble incoherencies at him, standing up from his now limp body. My bloodstained fingers mark my face as I try to wash everything in my mind away._

_I begin to run. The road is empty of cars and the dim streetlights barely guide my way. I try shouting for anyone but no one answers. My hair clings to my forehead and the back of my neck with sweat as I run for what seems like miles. And still no one answers._

_I run this road every night. And every night I know it's a dream, but the precision of my surroundings keeps me from questioning it. I cry silently, as though my voice has died away and all that is left is the choking sounds erupting from my throat as what can only be sobs._

"_Veronica." I can still hear him saying. "Veronica." _

"Veronica!"

My eyes fly open. The first thing I notice is the bright Neptune sunlight blinding me. The second is a familiar worried crouching down beside me.

"Logan," my speech falters slightly, wondering if I'm still sleeping. I wipe my face; realising tears had been rolling down my face. I'm sitting in my car with the door open, my body halfway lent out into the open.

"What happened?" He glances from me to the parked car, and back to the road where his own car is parked. Nothing seems to be clicking for him. "I've been trying to wake you for almost five minutes. I saw you passed out when I was driving past." He pauses. "What's happening to you Veronica?" He asks. "I thought the FBI would have toughened you up a bit." He jokes, trying to lighten the situation. It doesn't work.

My eyes widen. I have no idea what is going on with me, only that nightmares keep haunting my sleep, yet won't let me wake. They change all the time; different people, different events. Always the same outcome though, I'm left with no one. No one at all.

I stand up, not answering his question, or commenting on the FBI. All it really did was give me a desire to never be near a photocopy machine for the rest of my life. Maybe longer. Sure, the building seemed cool, and the agents that came through looked sophisticated and exciting, but nothing I did gave me any sense of accomplishment. I wobble slightly, however my balance seems to be returning. I stretch, until I lose stability and fall. Logan catches me roughly, holding me up. "I don't think you should drive." He stresses firmly.

"I'm fine." I say, trying to stand on my own feet. He won't let me. His hands are tight around my shoulders, his fingers digging slightly into my arms. The skin under his grasp is burning with anticipation, and I can feel my pulse quicken. I try to look away from him, but his gaze is set. His brown eyes are so intent on staring that I can't help but look back. It's a mistake.

The light-headedness I feel has nothing to do with my drowsiness. He doesn't blink and the intensity is overwhelming. I can't think about what's going on, but somewhere deep down I'm telling myself that I need to stop whatever this is. It takes all of my willpower.

"I need to go." I utter quickly. He lets me go. His mouth forms a tight line.

"I guess Piz will be missing you." He says monotonously, looking away hastily.

I nod in apparent agreement, still not in complete control of my thoughts. I step back, crossing my arms over my body in sudden self-consciousness. He looks annoyed, and I don't let myself wonder why. He nods goodbye, as if that is where we are at in this awkward, unexplainable relationship; acquainted enough for a nod, but not friendly enough for an actual 'bye'. I don't press the issue.

I climb into my car, aware of a pair of eyes watching me walk away. The warmth inside the vehicle has culminated since the door has been open for so long, letting the black seats heat up to a slightly uncomfortable level against my legs. I prepare the folder in my lap, something I only just remembered, before starting the ignition.

"Veronica." Logan calls as I'm beginning to drive away at minimum speed. I stop, winding down my window. "You said my name, you know." He elaborates, "In your sleep. You said it over and over and over." His face is still set in a mask of neutrality, but I can tell there is some underlying feeling he isn't letting me see. I don't try to figure out what it is though; this is something that I don't actually want to find out.

He gets into his own car and drives past me. I keep my eyes straight, ignoring the bright yellow blur in my rear-view mirror. I'm still parked on the side of the road, my hands clutching the steering wheel. I sit there in silence for a solid thirty seconds before completely breaking down. My head rests on the steering wheel as violent sobs make their way from me, filling the car with the pathetic sound of my crying. I wipe my eyes, but I can't stop. It just keeps on coming. Logan isn't dead, I'm not alone. But despite everything that I've been through, now—just when things seem to be improving—is the time that I lose control over everything.

By the time I've arrived at the Sheriff's Office my face is free of tears and any hint of desperation is gone. I walk right past Sacks and straight into Vinnie's office at the back. He looks neither surprised nor concerned that I'm there, however his characteristic flippancy is evident.

"Veronica." He accentuates each vowel sound, elongating my name. "Long time no see; how is your dad these days?" He smirks.

"He's going to be fine once you release him." I tell him, smiling with confidence.

"Now, why would I do that?" He asks coyly.

"You've been filled with an overwhelming need to do the right thing! Wait no. That can't be right; it would mean you're actually capable of human emotions." I gasp. "Have you… developed a conscience?" I feign shock with my mouth open and my eyes wide. He just continues smiling. I shrug. "Or, I'll help you find my mum."

He eyes me sceptically, like he doesn't believe I'd actually turn her in. He walks around the desk, sitting on the edge closest to me. I hold the folder up for him to see, waving it in front of him like he's incapable of understanding what it is. He reaches for it, but I pull it away before his fingers close around the documents.

"Ah-ah-ah." I tease, "Being hasty won't get you anywhere. How about you let my dad out first?"

He sits there for a few seconds, scrutinising me before nodding. He calls for Sacks on his intercom. "Release Mars," He orders once Sacks is at the door. I have to be honest, apart from holding the wrong people and his lack of morals, he really isn't doing a terrible job. The crime is relatively low and the people aren't preparing their pitchforks. Although, since when did the opinion of Neptune's population really measure how well someone was at their job. First there was Lamb, then Woody Goodman. I sigh.

Vinnie walks back around to his chair opposite the desk.

I slap down the folder in front of us, opening it up to the first document, relaying credit information from the last three weeks, and recent number plate sightings. Photos of her in various places are spread out across the table. I look at him, keeping a straight face.

"Do you want me to find her for you, or do you think you can manage this little chore?"

* * *

AN: Thanks for the reviews guys, they were much appreciated. So I'm not entirely sure what I think of this chapter. I'm possibly relatively pleased with it, but I'd love to hear your opinion.


	3. Chapter 3

I lean over the Hearst Library's front desk, kissing Piz softly on the lips. His lips are soft and his tongue pleasantly warm. It's nice. He grins at me with contentment, his hair falling into his eyes.

"We're still on for tomorrow night, right?" He asks.

"Of course," I confirm. A sudden vibrating in my pocket alerts me of a call. It's dad. He speaks urgently, barely giving me room to answer. "Okay, fine. Bye." I look across at Piz. "I have to go; I'll see you tomorrow though, all right?" I peck him on the cheek and quickly dart out of the library, hastily putting the closed sign on the desk. I look back to see Piz leaning against the counter, staring at the shelves. I just keep on walking.

"Honey, I'm home!" I announce as I arrive inside. Dad is seated next to the kitchen bench, leaning against it on his elbows. He turns to look at me, his eyes red. He doesn't answer me, instead just staring at the door vacantly. "Dad?" He looks across the room to the couch.

"Veronica," my mother murmurs. I don't move. She stands up and rushes toward me, holding me in her arms.

"You're here," I state, finally finding words.

"Cliff got me out in less than an hour," she tells me enthusiastically.

"I've missed you," I say, not sure of what she really wants. "What happened?" Lianne's chipper expression disappears gradually, and she looks at me worriedly. I don't miss her quick glance to my dad and know instantly that she doesn't want to tell me. Keith is still sitting there looking tired but I know that he would let me know. I have a right. I was the one that helped find her, the one that got him freed from his cell. The file on Lianne had given me no information and even extra searches of the safe had provided no answers. My need to know was proving too much and I was growing impatient.

"Are you going to keep secrets, too?" I ask them both, my face losing any resemblance of delight from seeing my mother. They look at each other with concern, but I can tell that they will explain everything to me. They won't lie to my face that everything is okay. We've been down that road before, and it ended with a broken family and the loss of everything.

"Well," Dad begins, "we've been accused of accessory for murder."

"And the apparent murderer being?" I ask bluntly.

"An old friend," Lianne laughs darkly; sarcastically. I look at her curiously. "Clarence Weidman," she says.

I am truly surprised. I don't understand why the connection has been drawn between them all. I mean, I know there has been history between the three of them, but in the last few months? Not a word. "Wait…" Then I realise how wrong I am. "You've been talking to Clarence Weidman?" I look from my dad to my mum, not understanding why any of this is happening. It was supposed to be all over. Everything was supposed to be getting better. There wasn't supposed to be any more allegations or conspiracies. I was supposed to complete college like a normal person. We were supposed to be out of all of this.

Neither of them look at me. I take it as confirmation.

"Just tell me one thing. What could possibly be so important to be associating with Clarence Weidman? Was his own accusation of me just a few months ago not enough? That was cleared. What is going on?" I can't help but get fired up. They've been hiding things from me.

They still remain silent, tension hanging in the air between us all. "Who died?" I burst out, sick of the lack of answers.

"A senior from Hearst. It hasn't been spread around because the Sheriff is trying to keep it quiet for as long as possible." Dad explains finally, however I'm still not satisfied.

"Why are they linked? What could possibly be the motive?" I press, confused at all of the silence.

"Enough, Veronica." Dad silences me, his hard expression stopping my questions. I look to my mother for answers but she turns away, a tear creeping from her eye. I storm out to my bedroom, fuming. They let me go without protest. I lie in my bed, contemplating everything to no avail. No enlightenment is reached, and I'm only filled with a want to sleep. Nightmares or not, sleep deprivation is not doing me good. In fact, lately I seem to be sleeping during the day more than at night. I turn over, wrapping myself in the covers. I shut out the world this way, closing my eyes to it all.

I wake the following to find a post-it note stuck to my desk. I walk over to retrieve it, pulling myself out up out of bed and onto my feet.

'_Piz called, wants you to call him back.'  
'Mac – Are you free tomorrow?'  
'Piz called again, he seemed really worried. Wanted to know if you were okay.'  
'Logan' _

I turn the note over, looking for more. But there's nothing else. Just the name. _Logan_. I scrunch it up and throw it in the trash. My phone is vibrating again. I swear I've never felt so popular in all my life. No one ever calls this much. "Hello?"

"Veronica, it's Logan." His voice sounds tired. Wow, calling twice in less than eleven hours, he must be desperate.

I pull the phone from my ear; sure I wouldn't have answered if the caller ID had said Logan. "Whose phone are you using?"

"It doesn't matter." He pauses. I don't bother filling the silence. "I need your help."

"Of course you do." Neither of us speak for a while.

"Well, do you want to know what happened?" He asks.

"Not particularly. I have to go." I hang up, breathing heavily. I can imagine his irritated, hurt face on the other end. I repress it from my mind. I can't deal with this right now. I fix my hair and get changed, readying myself for my morning criminology class. The new professor really isn't as good as Landry, but I've grown used to the change. The new professor, Mrs Yorke, a British graduate with a very textbook approach to teaching has much less of a grasp on the class but gets her message across nonetheless. She picked me as her favourite almost instantly after learning about my summer internship with the FBI, however quickly dropped the special treatment after learning who my dad is. Apparently he had made some PI decisions that didn't agree with her. Little did she know that it was actually me that had got the photos for her son beating his girlfriend. She was stupid for standing behind him. She still saw to it that I was a acing all my papers, but any time we spoke face to face it was underlined with coldness.

"Wallace!" I call, catching him on his way to the gym for Basketball training.

"Hey Supafly," He answers, turning around to face me.

"Have I mentioned how much effort I put into those Snicker-doodles lately?" I ask. He looks at me, bemused. "And that I may just have some more for you?" I beam widely so that I'm bearing my teeth, trying to soften him up.

"What do you want?" He asks, laughing at me.

"I need a favour." I walk forward, passing him a cookie from my bag. He stuffs it into his mouth so quickly it's almost comical. "I need you to find out what Logan needs my help with. It sounded serious."

"How am I goin' to do that?"

I just look up at him with my best imitation of puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine. But only because you bake so damn well." He walks off, leaving me standing alone, very relieved .

Mum is supposed to be making lunch today, treating Keith and I to a mystery dish. I arrive home with barely minutes to spare before time for her set time for serving up. "I got stuck in traffic. The lights were broken and there was a huge hold up—" I look around. Lianne is in the kitchen, but her eyes are rimmed with redness and dad is nowhere to be seen. "Where's dad?"

She smiles sadly, placing my dinner on the bench for me. I don't sit down. "Where is dad?" I repeat.

"I don't know." She tells me. "He left, he was angry." I look at her with confusion before spotting the vodka bottle beside the sink. It's almost empty. I can't even say that I'm surprised.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask.

"Veronica, it doesn't matter. It's not what's important right now, okay?"

"It does matter. It matters a lot. And I don't know what's been going on lately because apparently I've been too blind to realise that you and dad have been communicating, enough to warrant a legal accusation, so I really don't know how he let you stay here so easily. Because if it was up to me I would have made you find somewhere else to stay." I exhale deeply, ignoring the upset look she sends me.

"I'm still your mother, and I didn't raise you to speak to me like that." She replies firmly.

"Raise me?" I'm losing control of what I'm saying to her, and I'm sure I'll regret it later, but for now the entire situation is just making me so angry. "You abandoned me! You left us when we had nothing left. How can you say that you're the one that raised me?"

"Veronica… I'm sorry."

"What about Jake Kane? Do you even feel sorry for not forgetting about him? That maybe if you weren't with him our lives would have been that much more bearable? More than anything, how could you do it to dad? All that time. I can't believe you." I pause. She doesn't say anything.

"I spent all of my college money on you. To help you get better, and you throw it all away for nothing. _Nothing_." I repeat, tears escaping down my face in resentment. "You stole fifty thousand dollars from us! How could you?" Everything is coming out and I can't stop it. Lianne just stands there speechless. "Did dad tell you that I was the one that showed the Sheriff how to find you? That I was willing to give my dad his freedom for yours. Even if it meant your incarceration." I breathe heavily, bordering hyperventilation. My head rocks back and forth with each sob. Lianne just stares at me, guilt spreading across her face.

"But it isn't important, is it? Your drinking, it doesn't really matter. I mean, not compared with everything I've been through in the past three years. _That you've missed out on_. I've nearly been killed more than once, you know. Just your everyday serial killer with a gun, or maybe Lily's murderer, that didn't really matter either did it?" I mutter sarcastically. "Oh, did I mention the serial rapist? Huh, guess you weren't here for that either. Oh, well." I stop speaking. I'm unable to say anything else. I can't believe so much has poured out already. "Mum, you need to go. And this time, don't take anything. I don't want you back. Ever." I open the door for her and leave myself. I don't even get in my car. I just walk away. I walk and walk and walk. I have my bag with me, so I don't feel completely exposed. The afternoon light is getting darker as it begins to turn into evening. I just continue walking, aware that the red blotchiness is still present on my face.

"Veronica?" An all too familiar voice calls. I don't look at him, but I do stop on the side-walk.

"What do you want Logan?" I say without turning. He skips out in front of me. I try to hide my face but I'm too slow and he catches a look.

"What happened? Did someone hurt you?" He reaches out for my face, noticing the redness from crying. I shake my head, too tired to bother explaining. I try to keep walking, but he stands in front of me, not letting me pass. I just stand there, and I realise how pathetic and helplessness I must look. I straighten my back and wipe my eyes.

"I'm fine, Logan. Really."

"You're not. I don't want you out here like this. It's getting dark." He says with concern, his eyes staring intensely at my own. It makes me want to look away, but I can't. He steps closer, reaching for me. "I'll take you somewhere. Where are you going?" He indicates his truck just a short distance behind us.

"I don't need your help."

"I don't care." He tells me softly. His arms finally wrap around me as we walk slowly to his car. I lean on his shoulder, crying softly. He's always there, always when I need him. I can't get the thought out of my head. "Where to?" He asks, my body still partly leant against him.

"I need to see my dad. He'll be at his office." I say. He nods, taking the next left. I straighten up when we arrive, seeing his car in the lot. I get out slowly, hearing Logan's door slam shut as well. He walks over to my side.

"I'll walk you in," he offers.

"It's okay. I'm really okay." I go to hug him in thanks, but then pull myself back in wonder. What am I doing? I nod awkwardly, half-waving in goodbye before heading inside.

"Dad, I'm so sorry." I say when I walk in, finding him in behind his desk. He gets up and holds me against his chest, hugging me tightly.

"I love you Veronica." He whispers into my hair.

Piz checks the clock on the wall for the fourth time in the last five minutes. _Nine fifty-seven_. His new shirt feels stiff and uncomfortable, but he'd worn it nonetheless because he wanted to impress her. She had never struck him as the type of person that was overly impressed by expensive clothes or anything, but he wanted so badly to make an impact on her. The expensive flowers he'd bought her were sitting beside him on the table. The waitress comes over to him again, offering more beverages. He declines, a morose look fixed on his face. An hour and a half late; she isn't coming. He'd tried calling her over and over, but each time it went straight to voicemail. He gives up.

He stands up and walks out. He best shoes drag on the floor, the flowers in his left hand fall conveniently in the nearest trashcan. He makes his way back to his dorm, disappointed and alone.

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A/N: Okay, so what did you all think of that chapter? I'll be honest, I found it really hard to write this chapter and ended up just rewriting the entire thing, but I'm looking forward to writing the next one :3 Do you think that Veronica was too harsh? And did you feel sorry for Piz? I'm just wondering how this is translating, so reviews are welcome and encouraged.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Okay, so you must forgive me. I'm pretty new to this and I never really made a disclaimer, but I had figured that since this is a fan fiction site, it was obvious, but anyhow I'll do one now, only a few chapters late. _I do not own Veronica Mars and have no affiliation with the show or any of its characters respectively._ Wish I owned the lovely Mr Logan Echolls; that would be quite delightful.

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"Ahuh, thank you." Keith says determinedly into the handset of his cell phone. He hangs up, hiding it away inconspicuously in his pocket. He searches the apartment to make sure Veronica isn't home, and hasn't arrived since the phone call began. When he's sure she isn't around he goes to his hiding place in his wardrobe. A tiny shoebox at the back reveals a tiny pile of secrets. He puts the yellow post-it note at the top of the stack, the only just legible scrawl visible in black ink. He carefully places the box back, not wanting Veronica to find out anything. Not yet. Not until they're sure.

He gets back into his car and makes his way back to _Mars Investigations. _Veronica isn't there either. A slight furrow reaches his eyebrows in concern, sure that she said she would be there to work as receptionist over an hour ago. _And do cases_, he cringes internally at the afterthought. After everything over the past three years, he still isn't ready to see her as anything but his little girl. Keith gets to work in his office, doing background checks for clients and research for Cliff. He barely even notices that Veronica still isn't there a few hours later.

_He looks sad_, I think as we take our seats in the cafeteria. I had found Piz waiting for me after Criminology outside the lecture hall. I was supposed to be helping dad, but when he asked if we could talk I'd nodded in consent, feeling the need to find out what had given him that wearied look. I'd tried to ask what was wrong; wonder at who could make him feel like this. But he'd silenced me each time, seeming resolute to not let me interrupt the silence or his train of thought. I'd obliged without argument.

"I think we should break up." He says unwaveringly. I frown. I hadn't expected that.

"Why?" Sadness leaks into my voice.

"Do you really need to ask?" The lifeless inflection indicated that he clearly thought it was obvious.

"Why don't you spell it out for me?" I counter, the sadness giving way to exasperation, betrayal.

"How was your Friday night? Did you do anything exciting?" He asks me.

I don't understand straight away. It was the last time I saw Logan. He'd driven me to see Keith. The night I'd last spoken to my mum. Something I still wasn't able to talk about with Piz. My mind races as I put the pieces together. Had he found out that I was with Logan? Did that mean that it was merely jealousy that was fuelling this? Or had he talked to my dad and wanted to know why I hadn't told him that my mum was back, myself?

"You stood me up Veronica. I waited for an hour and a half. I had flowers and everything."

My eyes widen as I recall the plans we'd procured weeks in advance. It wasn't that I didn't want to go, it was that I forgot Piz altogether.

"Seriously, what is happening to you? You were always… _one step ahead_. Now you're barely keeping up." He explains. I don't try to defend myself. I deserve everything I get. He stands up and walks away, leaving me sitting there by myself, a surprised look on my face. Self pity is practically unavoidable. Slowly I pick myself up, disappointment and unhappiness carefully concealed on my face.

Keith gets home late that night, tired from a heavy work schedule, but his worries aren't all work related. He isn't surprised to find Veronica still up at all, however the small fluorescent piece of paper she's bearing comes as quite a shock. "Where did you get that?" Keith asks her wearily.

"I've been looking for information, you haven't told me anything. There's been a murder case and you won't let me in on it. But this number isn't even about that." She pauses. "It's someone that says that it was definitely mum. That was all they told me."

"Oh." They hadn't the given him that information when he'd checked this morning. He was supposed to receive a call if anything came up, apparently they were too busy.

"Did she really commit a murder?" Veronica asks.

"I think you better sit down, Veronica." Keith suggests, his outstretched arm indicating the couch.

She does so, her hands laced together in her lap, her eyes are narrowed in concentration.

"Veronica, she's…" Keith chokes up; he clears his throat and starts again. "She's dead. I wasn't going to tell you until they were sure. They phoned me yesterday because they found her in Tijuana. No one knows why she was there."

She doesn't seem to process it. She sits there unmoving, her hands still placed nicely on her legs. She just stares absently. He doesn't push her for words, instead sitting close to her in an embrace of comfort, repentant for the secrets. Keith won't move until Veronica tells him to, he doesn't want to leave her alone.

_She's… dead. _This can't be true. I've already lost everyone else. Lily, Duncan, Logan and even Piz. They're gone from me; they've all left me one way or another, or I've pushed them away. And now my mother has too. _I don't want you back. Ever. _My last words to her ring in my mind over and over. I can't get them out. They just playback to me on repeat, a constant reminder of how I'll never be able to take them back. I just sit there staring, not being able to think properly.

"I have to go," I state monotonously. My voice is subdued and emotionless. Keith looks surprised but doesn't tell me not to. I get up and get in my car, my body sliding robotically into my Saturn. I start the ignition but before I'm even out of the parking lot my body begins to really process the news. My lips tremble and my hands shake. My fists slam down on the steering wheel, my head crashing against the seat. I get out; ready to acknowledge that I'm not fit to drive. But I don't stay there. I call someone. Wallace. He doesn't pick up. I don't even leave him a message. I don't try Mac, Parker is still angry with me and I don't really want someone to talk to. I want someone to take me somewhere. There's only one other person that I can think of to call, and it nearly kills me to do it.

He answers before the first ring is through.

"Veronica?" His voice slurs.

"Come get me?" I don't even elaborate. Lack of manners don't really mean anything to me right now. Surely he must know it's urgent, if not but the fact that I'm calling him at all, by the breaks in my voice. Surely. The line disconnects. I throw my phone against the ground, sitting down again the tyre of my car in hopelessness. The dark sky hides my tears, but I feel them down my face. I don't wipe them away for fear that it will make the hurt less. I don't want to not feel, I deserve every bit of it.

I don't know how much time has passed, but the sound of another vehicle knocks me out of my melodramatic stupor. I stand to get out of the car's way, having realised that I'm sitting on the ground in a parking lot. The driver gets out, but I'm looking the other way. He walks hesitantly toward me and I can hear his footsteps. I don't really want him to see me like this, but I have no choice.

My face falls into his chest as he stands close to me, his arms wrapping me up with ease. His large comparatively large body shields me from the wind and I stand in close, not even cringing from the hug, something I usually avoid at all costs. He doesn't even know what's wrong, but he's here anyway. He doesn't answer, instead pressing his lips to my hair. It's pleasant. I don't want him to let go. "How did you find me? How did you know that I was here?" I ask him. He shrugs. I'll find out later, but for right now I don't care. It's unimportant. We get into his car and I'm filled with a sensation of déjà vu from just a few days earlier. I lean away from him in the car, avoiding any temptation he may hold. But really I just don't want to push anything.

"Where to?" He asks me, his hands resting lightly on the wheel. I just want to get away; anywhere.

"Surprise me."

Piz pulls into the lot, the stench of alcohol still present on his breath and his clothes. He gets out of his car shakily, resting against the door for balance. He wasn't going to come at all. He was aware how easily she could undermine the decision for them to break up. He knew that she still had the power to make him take back everything he said, with just three little words. Except that he didn't expect her to say them. Not to him. And when she'd called sounding upset, he'd thought that it was about him. That she was really devastated that they were over. That maybe she didn't want them to be over. He was filled with a glimpse of hope.

He walks toward Veronica's apartment before noticing something shiny on the ground. He picks it up unsteadily, recognising it as Veronica's cell phone. It's scratched and chipped, like it's been thrown with a fair amount of force. His pulse quickens as this information clicks in slowly. Piz can't comprehend why she'd leave her phone behind, much less throwing it against the ground. He's convinced there was a struggle. He recalled the extremely short phone call, less than an hour before. Her voice had rung with worry and panic. What if something was wrong? What if it wasn't about them at all…

He bursts into the apartment, not expecting to find her. Keith was seated on the sofa, his face in his hands. He looks up at Piz with surprise, moving forward to put him in a tight hug. His eyes are rimmed with redness.

"Where's Veronica?" Piz asks; his voice uneven.

"Have you been drinking?" Keith asks suddenly, only just noticing Piz's state.

He shrugs in response, waiting for an answer.

"She left a while ago." Keith tells him. Piz knew that under normal circumstances if there was something that Keith didn't want him to know he could hide it perfectly, but whatever was going on, Keith was not up to his normal standard. Piz could see easily that Keith knew more than he was letting on.

"Who was she with?"

Keith looked at him, the tired expression his bore aged him at least ten years. "I'm sorry Piz. She went with Logan." He had expected Piz to react, maybe get jealous or upset. But Piz doesn't really do anything, he looks slightly disappointed, but nothing much more. Keith is definitely confused.

"Are you sure she wasn't taken by force?" Piz asks, holding her phone out for Keith to see. He takes it his hands, examining it carefully. He's on full alert.

"I watched them go. She went willingly." He explains.

"Then why was she so worried? What had her so panicked?" Piz ponders aloud.

"Her mother. Lianne. Last Friday, I think Veronica talked to her then—"

"Friday?" The day she forgot him. He looks up at Keith, suddenly feeling much more sober.

"No one had seen Lianne since. She got murdered." He looks away from Piz, leaving him feeling livid about everything. "I'm only telling you so that you'll understand why she went with Logan. I like you, Piz." Keith tells him, making it clear he thinks that he's worried Piz will think something will happen between Logan and Veronica. He obviously doesn't know they're broken up either.

"We broke up," Piz says before leaving without another word. He gets back into his car and begins to driver, slightly recklessly with nowhere to go. It takes him only a couple of minutes before he turns back to wait for her to come home. He needs to know that she really is okay. Even though clearly Veronica has moved on. Quickly.

We're parked by the beach. The dark sky overhead is lit by the tiny stars spread above us. Logan gets out of the car and I follow him, walking through the sand. I take my shoes off, holding the boots in my hand as I feel the sand between my toes. Logan watches me, his eyes squinting in the darkness. The water is barely visible but every so often I feel the light spray of seawater against my face and legs. It's refreshing against the warm Neptune climate. It's a nice escape from everything, and I try my hardest not to think about anything at all.

Logan runs up behind me, lifting me from around the waist. I gasp in surprise, letting out a sound that could be close to a giggle, if I were capable of laughter at this time. He puts me down, running closer to the water. He splashes me and I step back out of range, this time running away half heartedly. The fun is lost though, because I can't stop thinking that she's gone. She never got to make things right. I will never be able to let her back into our lives. It's all over for her.

Logan reaches me straight away, his feet all wet from the water and sand sticking to them as he walks. I turn around to face him, not realising he was that close. He smiles down at me but I can't return that smile. The tears that are still on my face remind me of why I'm really here. Because I can't be alone right now.

His lips are against mine. I pull away though, not understanding. I look up at him, his dimly lit face staring down at me intently. I lean back in, his tongue finding its way into my mouth; exploring softly, then faster. My hands are around the back of his neck, his on my waist. We kiss, are bodies moulding together as our contours fit perfectly.

Then reality hits.

I pull away from him in agitation, only this time I don't go back for more. I back away from him, not sure of what I'm really doing. "I just—I can't Logan." I can't even look at him, and the tears that are welling in my eyes now have nothing to do with my mother.

"Right. Piz," He states aggressively. I don't say anything. I just keep on backing away until I'm back on the road. I search my pockets for my cell phone before realising its still on the ground in the parking lot. I have to wait for him to come back to the car to take me home, and I feel so guilty about. And yet he takes me home without complaint and without talking. We don't say another thing until we've arrived back home.

"Veronica, why did you come with me tonight?" Logan asks, his voice deep and meaningful.

I don't know if I should tell him. He knows something is wrong anyway. "My mum was murdered."

"When? Who—"

I shake my head. He reaches for me but I don't let him. "I don't know. But you lost your mum and I thought, I thought…" I don't even know what I thought. I am a mess.

"Yeah, I _lost_ her. Like I can just go and find her again," He scoffs. I look up at him with narrowed eyes but he isn't looking at me.

"Veronica!" A voice calls. Piz is standing at the door of my apartment. Logan looks livid.

"Logan, he's not…" He glares at me, and it's the most hurtful stare he's given me yet.

I get out of the car and storm up to Piz, but Logan has already driven away. "What are you doing here?" I ask him, my voice firm.

"Your dad told me, I wanted to make sure you were okay." He says.

"Piz, I think you should leave." I tell him. I walk inside and close the door in his face, irritation and loss and grief and anger simply overwhelming me. I go to bed without a word to dad, and curl up underneath the covers. Lianne is on my mind and this time I let it stay there, my head free of distractions. I promise myself something. I will find out who killed her, and they will be brought to justice.

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Thanks for everyone that has been reviewing, it is so much appreciated and quite the motivator.


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